


Im searching for the words to make you realize

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A little, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, I would class this as fluff tho, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mickey Uses His Words, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When he had walked into his and Ian's bedroom, he didn't know how to breathe."</p><p> </p><p>Prompt: one where ian tries to commit suicide and Mickey tells Ian that he can't live without him and stuff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Im searching for the words to make you realize

**Author's Note:**

> I used a little dialogue from Greys Anatomy - because fuck that scene with Alex killed me, and aah JUST SO MANY FEELS WITH IAN AND MICKEY RIGHT NOW 
> 
> hope you like it:)

It had been a week since Mickey had seen his worst, ever, most-possible frightening things, he'd wished he had never seen. It was a Friday, he remembered it vividly, he had just walked in the house after work. Unusually, the place had been the quietest it had ever been for years. Mickey had been curious, but he was so tired he didn't recognise the pills washing away at the bottom of the sink. When he had walked into his and Ian's bedroom, he didn't know how to breathe.

 

Ian's lifeless body was sprawled against the bed, one hand loosely holding a knife the other a crumpled letter. Mickey ran to Ian's body, hopelessly trying to feel for a pulse against his wrist. It was still beating. The gash was insanely large against Ian's forearm, the blood oozing out from his wrist. Mickey grabbed the nearest t-shirt and tightly wrapped it around the wound. He had held Ian in his arms, tears springing, heart beating, words spilling out incoherently. Ian's eyes fluttered open and for the first time Mickey _saw_ the real Ian. He saw that young, fragile, scrawny fucker he had tried to kill years before. He saw him and it broke his heart. Kiss after kiss he made sure Ian didn't close his eyes again, his shaking body curled onto Mickey as they waited for an ambulance to come. That had been the first time Mickey had said those three words, not by voicemail, not by thought; but directly from his mouth. Ian had fallen unconscious at that point and nothing frightened Mickey more than Ian not hearing those words.

 

-

 

Now, a week later – a week after Mickey continuously visiting Ian, day by day. Holding his hands, kissing his hair, telling him that maybe one day it would be okay. Then the doctors told him Ian still didn't believe he was Bi-polar, that he had flushed his med's again and that he still felt he didn't need them. Mickey was scared, Mickey was angry, he felt all the emotions block him up and for a long time he forgot how to speak. How could Ian think about leaving the world when Mickey needed him? How could Ian feel so alone and that no one wanted him there? How? How? How?

 

Mickey hadn't yet spoken to Ian, properly. He walked around giving him pecks, food, little words that might just sum up how he was feeling. Ian had noticed it; he always did. He felt that if he spoke he might blurt everything out and he didn't want to hurt Ian, not as much as he'd already had. The thing was, he didn't get it. He didn't get how Ian wanted to be with someone who had hurt him so many times. So he didn't speak.

 

This night, Ian was already in bed fiddling with his fingers, Mickey slipped in and turned away from him. Too scared that if he touched him Ian would turn away. For his shock, Ian abruptly pulled him by the shoulder – wincing at the pain he pulled into his bad arm. “Mickey.” he stated, voice sounding annoyed but concerned.

 

“What?” Mickey shot back, trying not to sound as if he didn't want Ian to speak.

 

Ian pulled at his shoulder again, turning him so he was on his back. Hovering over him, he opened his mouth closing it again, then he finally spoke up. “I don't know what you're so mad about, so tell me.” His eyes pleaded but Mickey felt his throat close up.

 

“I ain't fucking mad, go back to sleep Ian.” Mickey punched himself internally, he couldn't push Ian further away; he needed him closer, he needed him by his side and he nearly lost that barely a week ago. How could Ian not see that ending it would _kill_ Mickey, that leaving the world would just make Mickey crumble, make him fall to the ground and never get back up. How?

 

“No, Mick.” Ian spoke in a orderly tone, eyes brimming with tears. “I don't know what you're scared of because you won't talk to me. But whatever it is, I'm fucking scared too.”

 

Mickey could not understand how Ian couldn't see it. How Ian couldn't see that the only thing Mickey was scared of was losing him. But it still struck his heart that Ian _knew_ he was scared, how did he know that? Ian had always been able to read him when no-one else could. But he had to make it clear, he had to make sure that Ian wasn't leaving again, that Ian knew how much he actually meant to Mickey, because obviously the statement wasn't clear enough.

 

The brunette jumped from the bed, wiping underneath he eyes he stood by the door, resting his head against it and letting out a deep breath. It took all the strength he had not to lash out, not on Ian but on the world. Ian called him then, sitting up against the bed with his eyes filled with concern.

 

“Mick?” His little voice broke the seal of silence.

 

Mickey felt his heart pound, the pace quicken, the blood running impulsively around his body. “You wanna know what I'm scared of?” He had turned on the spot, looking through the dark to the only light in the room; Ian. The redhead had gulped, Adam's apple bobbing as Mickey clenched his fists.

 

Without a doubt, he didn't expect himself to shout. “I'm scared of everything!” Ian flinched, trying to stand but Mickey put a firm hand out infront of him, gesturing for the other man to sit back down. He felt his eyes water up, just as they did the week before, just as they did when Ian had first gone to that ward in the first place.

 

“I'm scared to breathe.” He spoke loudly, jabbing his own heaving chest. “I'm scared to move.” He was waving his hands around as he shouted, trying not to cry because that's something he couldn't do, he didn't want to see how Ian flinched at each of the words.

 

“Mick-

 

“I'm scared to touch you!” He shouted again, feeling himself close up but open all the locks again. Ian was watching him, eyes filling up and letting out again. Mickey didn't know what to do, but talking was something that felt like relief, he saw it registering in the other boys eyes.

 

Stepping closer, he placed himself standing between Ian's legs. Both hands around the redhead's wet cheeks, he let out a small sob. “I can't fucking lose you, I won't survive.” He whispered, he couldn't shout that – he was too afraid that Ian might not hear it, that Ian might leave and not know that Mickey _needed_ him. Ian placed his own, shaking hands over Mickeys his head rolling into a defeating sob. Mickey wiped his eyes on his upper arm, still not moving his arms.

 

“And that's your fault.” Mickey whispered again, feeling his legs buckle until he was kneeling infront of Ian's face. “You made me love you, _you_ made me let you in.” He felt his voice growing louder, despite his inner protests to close it down. He felt himself grip to the shirt Ian was wearing, pulling him closer, the grip wasn't hard it was firm. It told Ian that he wasn't letting go, that he needed him there.

 

“Then you went and nearly fucking died in my arms. You nearly left me Ian.” He dropped his head into Ian's knees, letting out a breath he had threateningly kept within in. His mind sent flashbacks, over and over, _Ian keep your fucking eyes open. Ian, IAN!_ He shook against Ian's skin, hearing the other boy crying above him.

 

“Mick.” He heard the broken voice, he told himself he should look up. So he did. They locked eyes and they were both messes, both crying all over the place, and both shaking. Then that's when Mickey knew, that's when he knew Ian felt it too. “I don't know what to-

 

“Don't say anything.” Mickey pulled him closer, resting his head on Ian's shoulder. Ian did the same, burying himself into Mickey's skin because that's all he wanted to do. “Just be here, just fucking stay.” He gripped to Ian as hard as he could, this time he wouldn't let him have the chance to think Mickey didn't need him, because he needed him more than anybody knew.

 


End file.
